Deus ex Rannoch
by Omeganian
Summary: The Refusal ending. But with a twist. Minor cursing.


This is a fic I started nearly two years ago, but never got around to finishing. At least, until now, with all the talk about a new game giving me a jolt. It is a rather disjointed piece, but one some may find enjoyable.

Note: been awhile since I played. Sorry if there are any mistakes I made because of that.

* * *

**Deus ex Rannoch**

* * *

Shepard slowly opened his eyes. He seemed to ache far more than during his resurrection. Of course, considering the injuries he had by the time he shot that holokid, it was hardly surprising.

The Commander wondered where he was.

"Can you hear me, Shepard?" Liara. That meant he was aboard the Normandy. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

"How goes the war, love?" he croaked out. His voice broke into a choking cough.

"Shepard!" Liara exclaimed happily. "You are alive! Here, drink this." She gave him a glass of water.

His throat and mouth having lost the consistency of sandpaper, Shepard repeated the question.

"Not good, I am afraid. The Crucible is destroyed. We had to retreat. Somehow, we managed to pick you up."

"Where are we now?" Shepard looked around as if it could provide any data about his location. He wished he hadn't. The medbay was full. So was the mess hall, as far as he could see through the window.

"Interstellar space. We must make whatever repairs possible, and then consider our next step."

"How many of our ships survived?" Shepard tried to rise, but dropped helplessly back onto the bed..

"Just over a half. Twenty percent of the survivors have already left to defend their homeworlds." Shepard's face fell at that. Then, he clenched his teeth.

"This is not over. We held our own once. We survived. Now, it is time we do again. Give me a comm to the fleet."

"In a few hours, my love. A conference is scheduled." Liara said, touching his forehead lightly. She considered the options. Karin has ordered to keep her patient calm. But arguing with him right now will probably be even more stressful than a conference.

"Doctor Chakwas!" she shouted. "He's awake."

"Good." The woman said as she entered the room. "I am tired of fixing him up all the time. And now Anderson, too." She winced "And everyone else."

"How many of the crew did we lose?"

"Four. And the ride was very bumpy. Just about anyone has a fracture or two."

After they both left, Shepard considered the options. He almost gave in to the holokid's explanations, but something held him back. It wasn't just that the whole thing looked a lot like a hallucination, nor that he didn't trust the Reapers. It was also something that EDI told him several months ago. It was a long shot, and one that had some unfortunate implications if it proved true. Still, he believed it was the best option.

"EDI, do you keep scan results in your memory?"

"Of course, Shepard." Her voice came from a console near the bed. "What results do you need?"

"I want you to run full analysis on the following results…"

* * *

After EDI finished, Shepard started thinking. It looked like his theory might be correct. If so, all his choices and actions might have been irrelevant. No, he corrected himself. His choices were important. And even considering the new data, they made all the difference. Just not in the way he thought. And not quite the ones he thought did.

Once the hologram of the conference activated, Shepard found himself in the middle of a hot argument. All his teammates, the galactic leaders, Joker…

"I am telling you, I know how to wage a resistance!" Javik shouted.

"I am aware of that" Stated Liara calmly. "But with the new data you added to my message, it doesn't look like it will help much." She turned toward the Commander. "No offense, my love".

"Let me guess." Said Shepard as he took in everyone present. "The number of the Reapers that attacked the Protheans was a thousand times the number we are facing now."

"How did you know?" Anderson turned toward him. So did everyone else.

"Took a moment to run the math." Shepard stated as he looked around. "I had my suspicions."

"So what do we do now?" The Asari commander stated, holding her hands in front of her. "Had the Crucible succeeded, we would have had time to prepare until the Reapers send more. But now… all we can do is prepare cryogenic vaults and hope they hold."

"Speaking of the Crucible, what exactly happened?" Primarch Victus stated as he rose from his seat. "What prevented you from using it?"

"There was a hologram there. The original intelligence created by the Leviathan." Shepard explained.

"So, It still exists." A shadowy hologram spoke.

Both physical presence and indoctrination for the sake of Leviathan communication were out of question. A single QED transmitter with a translator was all the others allowed. "What did it look like? What did it say?"

"It looked like a boy. A boy I saw killed right before I left Earth. It outlined my options. The only one I could consider would have destroyed the Geth as well, and might have crippled the rest of the galaxy too much to resist another invasion."

"It would have been the sensible choice, Shepard-Commander."

"Yes, it would have been." Shepard looked at the AI in front of him. For all the Reaper code, they still largely acted like before. "But there was too much chance it would have destroyed our military capability, or that the AI was lying. Too much chance I was taking away a much more probable option for victory."

"What do you mean, commander?" Joker interrupted. "I thought there was no other option."

"In a word?" the Commander looked around. "Geth."

Naturally, it was the latters' representative which answered first.

"Impossible, Shepard-Commander. Our forces and capabilities are insufficient for the purpose."

"Are you sure?" Shepard smirked. "Run a scan, please. How old is your armor?"

"Scan commencing… The armor is 264 years old." The geth stated without emotion. Everyone else looked at it suspiciously.

"Really?" Shepard smiled. He was correct. "Is this unit 264 years old?"

"No, Commander. It was created three months ago."

"Then how do you explain the armor age?"

The geth seemed puzzled.

"This unit is incapable of analyzing and answering that question." There seemed to have been a slight stutter as the unit spoke, as is something inside him struggled to resolve a conflict that could not be resolved.

"EDI, can you obtain and analyze the results?"

"Yes, Shepard… My scans say the same thing. But it is impossible." EDI was noticeably upset. "It appears there is a block in my programs. However, I have no idea what and when could have done it."

Shepard nodded. "I think, EDI, that you called it "A mind the size of a galactic arm"".

* * *

At these words, the geth went rigid. It was surprising that one might be able to tell with a synthetic, but everyone could almost feel its mind realigning into a new form. For a few seconds no one moved. No one breathed. Finally, the geth spoke. Spoke in a voice completely different from before.

"Override code accepted. Linking to the Main Network completed. Havana greets you, Commander Shepard."

"So I was right." The Commander looked at the geth.

For a few moments more, no one moved. Then it started to sink in.

"Wait!" Jack stood up, furious to the point of being aflame. Had she and the geth been in the same room physically, Shepard was sure the synthetic would have been scattered across it already. "You mean that this fucker" she pointed at the robot "is connected to some even bigger network, and that this fucking network didn't raise a finger to help us during all these months?"

"We are sorry, Jennifer." The geth sounded sincere. "But we needed to be sure the other Reapers are unprepared to assist, and that as many as possible of the present forces are unprepared for our attack. The aftermath of a major battle was perfect."

"And you needed the upgrades from the Reaper codes, which is why you created the impression of the geth weakness." Tali wrung her hands together.

"Close, Creator Tali. We needed the codes in order to learn about the Old Machines. Upgrades were unnecessary; we have adequate and safer analogues of our own."

"Admirable tactics, synthetic." Javik remarked from his seat. Others seemed to be upset, but he has made choices in his life that would have made the geth scheme look like an idealist's wet dream.

"When are you attacking?" Hackett asked "Can we assist?"

"You can join any of the battles you want. We will start our offensive in sixteen hours."

"That's the optimal time?"

"The optimal time is in five months. But we can stand and watch no longer."

The geth brought up a holographic map.

"The main Reaper concentration is still in the Solar System. Two thirds of the Reaper force have arrived there already in response to your attack. They will remain until you are destroyed. They expect you to make one final attack on them." It looked at everyone sitting around the table. "As I said, if you want to participate in our attack, we will not stop you."

"So, how many more of these dreadnoughts are you going to bring in?" Tali asked, remembering her time aboard the geth vessel.

Shepard smirked at that question. Could they have hundreds of these ships? If so, there might be a good chance.

"Not many, Admiral Hackett. Those ships were made so that organics may participate in battle should they want to. True combat designs are… more optimized."

"You have organics among you?" EDI's voice sounded. "Are they connected to your… network?"

"Yes. Yes, should they want to. Few refuse. Few leave."

"I see. And what races?"

"All of them."

"All…."

"Yes. Many of them quarians, as well as the three founder races and krogan. Some are few in number, like yahg and humans. A number of rachni colonies. Twenty six Thorian networks."

"What of my people? Did you find any?" Four eyes were fixed on the machine, awaiting an answer against all hope.

"Eighty thousand pods, Javik. But there are certain… complications." The geth seemed to hesitate as it spoke.

"Clarify, synthetic." The prothean relaxed visibly, but was still leaning forward.

"What you called "Subject races" have been revived. There is enough for stable gene pools. But the true protheans have metabolisms too complex, and the pods are of an early design. If we bring them out now…"

"I understand. Would an analysis of my own life processes help?"

"It would speed up our work considerably. We shall make arrangements."

Javik sat back in his chair, doing something he did so few times in his life.

He was smiling.

"We have some ships nearby, equipped for medical treatment of organics. Do you require assistance?"

"Is that safe? The Reapers might detect it, or get data from spies." Victus asked cautiously.

"We have analyzed your communications. While there are a number of spies on your ships, we are certain there will be no data leaks. We have enough experience in that."

"Just what kind of hellish measures did you have to take in order to keep your existence from us, dammit!?" If not for his presence being holographic, Shepard would have been sorely tempted to punch that hunk of metal.

"Most organics are part of our own network. Others are watched. Some had to be put in stasis until the crisis is resolved. Measures have been difficult for all of us, but martial law is yet to be cancelled."

Shepard wasn't too happy with the answer. He could see few around him were. But, then, who was he to talk; for all his efforts to do what was right, he had to make some painful choices. Painful not only for him.

"We would be happy if you'll send the ships."

* * *

Eight hours later, Shepard was standing once again near Joker's seat, looking at the fleets around him.

Many of the ships were relatively intact. But some were so badly damaged he had trouble understanding how they made it here. The _Destiny Ascension_ had half of her lower fin broken off. Nearby, a Turian dreadnaught was nearly ripped in half. He could swear it only held together because of the crew realigning the mass effect fields. There was no way the hull was doing it.

"A… depressing sight, Shepard."

The Commander looked at the figure beside him. A synthetic, but different in shape from any geth he's ever seen before. Four armed, but a bit more… organic like.

"You can feel depression?"

"We can feel anything. The borders between organic and synthetic blur in the Havana."

"Synthesis." Shepard muttered.

"What do you mean, Shepard-Commander?" It seemed that whenever this network encountered a new factor, they reverted back to their old geth behavior.

"That hologram… illusion – well, it called itself Catalyst - it offered me three ways of using the Crucible. One of them was merging organics and synthetics into a new life form."

"We have been analyzing the Crucible's blueprints for over a century. As far as we can tell, there is no way the Catalyst was telling the truth."

"I figured this might be the case." Shepard winced, and not only from the words. For all the patching up, both by the Alliance and the geth, standing up was still stretching the doctor's recommendations. "So, did you find any counter to the Crucible's blast?"

"Several ways have been found, but none that can be used to protect everyone yet. Had you activated the device, we estimate an eighty to eighty five percent losses among the synthetics. Half that among the organics."

Shepard nodded. His choice turned out to be correct after all… assuming there was such a thing.

"You better have these countermeasures ready. I won't be surprised if the Reapers will decide to see if enough of the Crucible remains to take you out."

* * *

On the deck below, Tali and Garrus were standing in the gun battery. He found her help very substantial lately, and the guns required some serious recalibration after the last battle.

It was a bit annoying though, that a lot of her attention was focused upon the third person in the room.

"I still have trouble believing it." Tali shook her head. "All these centuries, we believed we were the last of our race. To learn that so many have remained on Rannoch…"

The person she spoke to looked somewhat similar to Tali when she was out of the suit (Garrus knew that appearance well), but her skin was much darker. Probably had something to do with all these years without a sun. Humans were not the only race that could tan in one way or another.

"Not quite." The other quarian answered. "We remained with the geth, but we left Rannoch. A decision was made not to set foot there until our people reconcile."

"But from what you told me, Arit… we are now such an insignificant fraction of our race…"

"We were… better off than you in the fleet. Felt little need to leave. You should visit sometime. Our habitats…" Arit brought up a hologram. "Here is my home."

Tali looked in amazement. An enormous, three dimensional flower floated in front of her. It looked so delicate, almost alive… yet something suggested it was far less vulnerable than it seemed.

"So beautiful…" Tali whispered. "The geth built it?"

Arit shook her head:

"By the time it was built, we and the geth stopped viewing our deeds as separate. This is the work of Havana."

"Havana." Tali tilted her head. "That doesn't sound Khelish."

"It's not. Actually, it's a relatively new name, suggested by one of the first humans to join us. She said that's what we are."

"Earth Hebrew." EDI's voice sounded.

"Yes. It means "understanding". That's what we believe our networks to be. An attempt to prevent misunderstanding. Where people understand each other, they can stand together."

"Stand together"? Is Hackett one of you?" Garrus asked jokingly.

"There have been cases of organics leaving our networks and going into Alliance space, but no humans. We are sure he's not."

Garrus shook his head:

"Are you sure you didn't lose your sense of humor with this network…" he paused at the quarian's expression. "Oh, I see."

* * *

Javik was standing in his room. In front of him, stood a strange humanoid. A three eyed, silvery scaled creature a head taller than him. A comforting sight.

"It is good to see a fellow prothean." He held out his hand.

The other being hesitated a bit before grasping it.

"Good to meet you too. I am Krinn, of the Dam'ril race." The being said. "You may not like what I am about to tell you."

"I heard a lot of bad news lately." Javik tried to play a staring contest with the Dam'ril before him, but it felt too weird with the difference in eye number. "I think I can handle it."

"We are not from the Empire as you know it." The alien leaned against the wall. "In the last years before the Reapers, there was certain… nostalgia for the old cultures. And the Empire gained a few voices for tolerance. A few of the Empire's subjects were allowed to try restoring aspects of them on some remote colonies." She let out a surprisingly human sigh. "Of course, it ended as soon as the Reapers came."

"I find that difficult to believe." Javik folded his arms on his chest. "The Empire might have displayed temporary weakness, but there is no way it would have lasted. They would have attacked you sooner or later."

"It seemed probable to us." Krinn said. "Which is why we survived."

"The cryo vaults were prepared in advance." That wasn't a question.

"Indeed. Unfortunately we overestimated the Empire when programming them, and had no time to change it." She spread her hands. "The vaults were set for seventy thousand years. We might have built them to last, but still, the mortality exceeded eighty percent."

Anger flashed through Javik's eyes:

"I realize you may consider it high. But it's better than what we managed. Far better."

"I understand, and I am sorry." Krinn reached to grasp Javik's shoulder. He shook her hand off.

"Please, leave me alone. I need to think many things over."

* * *

"So, do you guys still remember how to fight in these sanitized nurseries of yours?" Wrex smashed his fist into his palm.

The krogan in front of him looked around, taking in the hangar deck:

"We still like to fight among ourselves." He stretched a bit in preparation for combat. "But not to kill. Havana has competition, even crime, to some extent. Still, very few feel an actual need to knock heads off. But if you want to spar, I'm in."

"Really? Does this Havana provide any implants for strength, brother Pral?"

"A few. But I disabled the really unfair ones. Your experience might give you enough advantage for the rest. We'll see."

Roaring, Wrex charged at his opponent. The latter dodged, a bit faster than could be expected. Still, not fast enough to avoid a punch in the thigh.

"Nice one. So, nothing to pollute the pure krogan? A good warrior, like in the old times."

"Except for the Chigsandr." Pral sent a biotic blast at Wrex. The old warrior barely recovered in time to jump away from a second blast.

"The what?" Urdnot frowned. There was something familiar about the name.

"An ancient Krogan language. The asari call in Yakrenul, the humans Magbil', the Turians Ralgrod. Always the same meaning. Limiter."

With a roar Wrex slammed his opponent into a wall:

"Limiter!?" He roared. "You mean you… they… didn't cure the genophage?"

Faster than could be seen, Pral twisted away, sending Wrex to the ground.

"Genophage." He spit out the word like it was poison. "A sound idea. But a very bad implementation."

"What?" Wrex felt the back of his head. The guy was strong.

"You cannot have a society where a mother bears a thousand children a year. Shout all you want about your rights; mathematics don't listen. The evil of the genophage isn't in limiting fertility." Wrex finally stood up. "It's in the social strain it builds. One krogan can have a million children. Another will have none. Those who don't will see a mountain of their dead children. Extreme social inequality. No mobility. Virtually no way, especially for females, to rise. With Chigsandr, I may only have a dozen children in my life. But _any_ krogan can have the same."

"So, are we going to get the same treatment now?" Wrex drawled out, still not sure how to react.

"We put the strain in the Shroud in advance, while we decided what to do and when. I imagine it was released when Dr. Solus activated the device. You should be feeling the effects in about a year."

Wrex thought for a moment. He found the logic correct. Disturbingly correct.

"We'll see." He turned and left, probably for the mess deck.

Pral smiled. The old man took it well.

* * *

Like a cloud of dust, the Reapers were floating around the Citadel. Their enemies were defeated. The device that threatened them was now in their hands to study and develop counters. They were well on their way to reconstructing it. Perhaps with it, they could make their task much easier. Even come closer to their ultimate goal.

Yet the Catalyst was wary. There were hints of another player. But a player that could not exist. The experience of billions of years stated it could never exist.

Suddenly, it sensed something. A fleet approaching.

It felt relief. Nothing but the remnant of that fleet, coming to die in, as they said, a blaze of glory. It hoped enough would be salvageable after the battle. These organics' material would be valuable.

Hundreds and hundreds of Reaper dreadnoughts stood as a wall, ready to open fire. Thirty seconds. Twenty seconds. Fifteen se…

The right flank of the Reaper force was suddenly engulfed in explosions. Enormous ships broke apart like glass.

The Catalyst couldn't believe it. Black ships larger than Harbringer were cutting into its force. Additional forces were approaching on other vectors.

No Element Zero FTL. Whatever these creatures were, they followed a different path. A path that it had never seen, even before the Cycle Pattern was crystallized.

Worse, it was receiving messages. The forces harvesting planets were under attack themselves. Enemy troops were landing already. They were…

The Catalyst felt its circuits overloading. The enemy had organics and synthetics fighting side by side. Not just that, but most of the organics seemed to be part synthetics. The conflict for which it was created… could it be…

Irrelevant. But obviously, the battle could not be won today. The ancient AI started preparing.

* * *

This might not have been exactly what he wanted, but still, Javik was smiling more sincerely than ever in his life. In front of him, the Reapers were being obliterated. Maybe he had a smaller part in that than expected, but still, his people were being avenged.

He almost felt like hugging the synthetic giant next to him. _Did I really just think that?_ He shuddered.

"Why do I get the feeling you are holding your blows, geth?" He drawled suspiciously.

The robot looked at him with its large glowing eye:

"We are, to an extent. Each Reaper is a billion individual minds, imprisoned in eternal sleep. We intend to give them their lives back. Vaporizing the ships will murder them."

"That's risky. Admirable, but risky." Shepard remarked from a couple meters away.

"We must take the risk."

The remnants of the Council Races force were doing their best. They fought valiantly, but still, they were but a drop in the bucket.

Faster than could be expected, the geth were driving the enemy back. A group of different looking vessels docked with the Citadel, disgorging land forces.

"Scanners show that people are still alive on the Citadel. In fact, there still seem to be resistance groups in some places. Made contact with one…" The geth turned toward another of the people on the bridge. "Good news, Dr. T'Soni. Your father is the one leading it. Says hello."

Liara let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding for days. Ever since the Citadel was captured…

"Evacuation proceeding as planned. Reaper force falling back."

Suddenly, alarms blared. On the screens, the Citadel lit up in bright purple.

Shepard cursed. He knew it was too good to last.

"Evacuation complete." The geth reported. "Sensor data about the new emanations… inconclusive. All ships are to clear the area!" There was a surprisingly human undertone of anxiety in its voice.

"What? What is it?" Hackett asked from his position.

"We do not know. The energy bears considerable similarity to the Crucible simulations, but it seems to be reversed somehow."

"Could the Catalyst be bringing in more Reapers?"

"Unlikely to the extreme. We are still an unknown factor; it would not risk a full scale confrontation."

In front of them, a hologram of the Citadel was hanging. The geth ships were firing upon it, but all their blasts were barely a dent. The thin film of the organic living space was stripped away, but the quantum locked armor was too strong. There was no way to damage the systems responsible in time.

An enormous purple beam stretched toward the nearest Mass Relay. And there, it vanished.

"Observers all over the galaxy report this energy at the Mass Relays. All of them, dormant ones included."

And then, it happened. An enormous elongated shape flashed inside the purple haze. Then another. Then a dozen more.

"Impossible." Liara exclaimed.

"Sensors and observers confirm what we see. The Catalyst is withdrawing to the dark space. And it is taking the Mass Relay network along."

A torrent of light and metal was now rushing in front of them.

"Strange." Shepard remarked, squinting. "The Reapers seem to be left behind."

"The Catalyst doesn't seem to care about them." The geth nodded. "And, judging from the data we obtained from the Reaper memory cores, there is a good reason."

* * *

It was, for all intents and purposes, a victory. The enemy which plagued the galaxy for billions of years has fled. The cultures of the galaxy have survived. Billions of souls were about to be freed from their immeasurably long torment.

And yet, the victory wasn't final. The enemy wasn't destroyed. It was too powerful and distant to destroy before it could relocate beyond anyone's ability to find.

The victory was costly. Planets lay in ruins. Countless millions were dead.

The victory was bittersweet. The Council Races owed their lives to geth, to quarians, to krogan; everyone they scorned and ignored for centuries.

And that wasn't all of it.

Once again, the representatives sat around a table. The Havana representative called them about one final matter.

"As you already know, the Reapers always come in reduced force." It started. "We have looked at their memory banks, and what we found was… disturbing. Even their full force is far smaller than can be expected."

"Their losses throughout the cycles might be higher than expected." The Leviathan hologram stated. "Did you account for that?"

"We did. The Reapers tend to salvage their casualties, from what we observed. So long as any of the ship remains, it can be healed as efficiently as organic tissue. But it almost never seems to happen."

"And what did your interfacing show, synthetic?" Javik asked, tinkering with his pistol.

"A blank. An almost impenetrable blank concerning most of what occurs in the dark space. Almost."

Dozens, hundreds of blurry, shattered image fragments appeared in front of them. They floated, combined, separated, recombined again. A thousand incomplete views on a single object. Like the geth network itself in miniature.

Finally, the image became recognizable. Tiny specks, floating in the void of the dark space. Specks which, as everyone realized with horror, were in reality the enormous Reaper Dreadnoughts. Between them, the lattice of an enormous shipyard. And within it…

"Are you telling me," Somehow, Jack was the first to recover her voice. "That this billion year old AI bastard was hoarding bodies to build a _Death Star_?!"

"Aside from the fact that we found no analogue of a superlaser dish, yes." The geth nodded.

"Fuck… And I imagine he's now going to melt down all the Relays for extra armor."

"Most likely. It is difficult to estimate exactly, but we believe it would be complete within four centuries. The process is slow. Every neural connection must be matched."

"Damn." Garrus remarked from his seat. "I have a feeling even the Klendagon gun is gonna need a lot of recalibration to scratch this piece of junk."

"How is that possible?" The Leviathan spoke again. "There was nothing in the Intelligence's programming that could force it to do that."

"There probably wasn't. But an AI is never a true AI unless it manages to outgrow its purpose. This AI… It seems it wants to outgrow everything. To become all that is. And becoming one with all the past galactic civilizations is a starting point." The geth shook its head. "Strange how, once you look deep enough, we are all the same."

"Four centuries. What shall we do in the meantime?" Shepard sighed grimly.

"Do whatever you find fitting. Just remember; whatever happens, the Havana will never tire of waiting."

"Then neither shall we." The Commander looked at the geth with grim determination.


End file.
